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Coloured Cubes

She has many coloured cubes.
In each cube she puts a slice of herself.
A living manikin.
She breaks off a body part.
An arm in here, a toe in there,
24 vertebrae in the biggest box.
Each cube has a lock.
She gives as much of herself as she can:
it’s always too much.
Each box believes they own all of her
and that the other boxes are empty.
She whispers inside each box:
“I’ll tell you the truth. It will be our
little secret. I haven’t told anyone else.
Only you know. There is only you.
This is the real me. This is all of me”
The words fill it like an intoxicating mist.
She climbs out of each box. Closes it. Locks.
Leaving the air, trapped, hovering
inside. She puts herself back
together again. She goes from box to box.
Like stepping stones; safe from the
gushing creek. So if she falls in or gets
swept away, the cubes will carry on
her legacy. There’s just one hiccup:
NONE of the cubes know her.

Currently unavailable for purchase



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